


Making the Best of a Bad Day

by lockedin221b



Series: It Takes Three [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha Mary, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angry Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Rutting, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an exhausting day, the last thing Mary wants to deal with is an obstinate omega who's just woken up from his post-coital snooze after being fucked by the other alpha in the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Best of a Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Very quick pisskink for [Belly](http://ssallydonovan.tumblr.com/). I've never written pisskink before. So yeah.
> 
> Very mildly dubious consent. I really don't think it ends up at all dubious, but I'm tagging as such to cover my arse.

It’s been a long day, and Mary is finally drifting off when Sherlock stirs beside her. She glares at him in the dark bedroom, and she glares at John’s happily sleeping form behind Sherlock.

“Need t’ piss,” Sherlock mutters, not at all apologetic.

“You couldn’t have gone five minutes ago?”

Sherlock sits up, sheets sliding off him to reveal his bare body. “I was asleep.”

Mary can smell it. She smelled it when she walked in the flat. She really shouldn’t be annoyed. She doesn’t have a right to. She and Sherlock have fucked without John plenty of times. Shit, she and John have fucked without their omega. “You mean you were sleeping off your orgasm.”

Even in the dark, Mary can make out the shift in Sherlock’s face as he lifts one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Sorry you had a rough day,” he says, not sounding sorry in the least. “It’s rather senseless to risk waking John, though, seeing as you’re still awake.”

“You don’t want to wake him?” Mary clenches her jaw. “You don’t want to wake the bastard from his post-coital snooze, so you keep me awake?”

“Mary, I really have to-”

She’s done listening to him, though. She leaps on him, and it’s amazing the rock of the bed doesn’t wake John. She turns Sherlock’s body toward the calm rise and fall of John’s side. With one hand, she pushes her boxer shorts halfway down her thighs. With the other, she cups Sherlock’s prick, which, being that of an omega and far from arousal, fits nicely into her palm.

Sherlock gasps and starts to call her name, but she squeezes him into silence.

“Sh, sh,” Mary whispers against Sherlock’s ear. “Wouldn’t want to wake John, now would we?” She begins rubbing against his arse slowly. “He’s sleeping so peacefully.” She slides her other hand under Sherlock and across his chest, pinning him back against her. Her cock is gradually sliding out of its sheath as she grinds against him. She rubs Sherlock’s small prick between her fingers.

“Mary,” he whines softly.

She breathes into his ear before asking, “Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a hesitation, but it’s minor. He shakes his head and bites his lip.

“Good.” Her cock is fully aroused now, and she starts rutting in earnest. As she knots against his skin in the open air, he groans and twitches in her hands. Mary presses her forehead into the nape of Sherlock’s neck as she thrusts, the tip of her cock nudging the small of his back. Sherlock pushes back into her, giving her more friction. When she comes across his back, it’s with a low groan. She squeezes his prick as orgasm shoots through her, and with a surprised yelp he pisses—straight onto John’s back.

John wakes with a shout and tumbles off the bed. Mary deflates into uncontrollable giggling. John flips on the light to assess just what the hell is going on. Sherlock is stock-still on the bed, still with his come-covered back to Mary, a thin stream of piss soaking into the covers between his prick and where John was laying seconds ago. Mary can hardly breathe at the looks on their faces.

“Fuck you two,” John grumbles. “God, I smell like piss now.”

Mary wheezes, “Your—faces—oh my god.”

“Christ, Mary. What the hell was that for?”

Sherlock sits up, glancing over his shoulder at Mary. “She had a bad day.”

“But my night’s off to a great start,” she says, an uncontrollable grin still plastered on her face.


End file.
